


Let Us Cling Together

by Suchsmallhands



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst, Drabble, Short One Shot, everyone died but sirius, the death eaters won, to commemorate the death of my creativity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 04:50:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18242717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suchsmallhands/pseuds/Suchsmallhands
Summary: What if everyone but Sirius died.





	Let Us Cling Together

Wind blew against frozen, grey stones of the massive courtyard. Sirius stood with his bare hands hanging out of a shirt, a thin sweater, and a light leather jacket marred with battle marks. Maybe he could have repaired the jacket, and he used to. But at some point, there wasn’t a point anymore.

This deep in Russia, this deep in winter, is like another world. The wind was fast enough to yank at his hair, making low whistling noises like the lowest demon in Hell was panting its stink over the Earth. Bulbous, pointed spires lifted into the air, freezing. No one was out tonight. The moon was nowhere to be seen. No snow fell.

Just the freezing cold.

His face and hands had burned unbearably for a few minutes in the cold. Now they were numb. It was the kind of cold that left no refuge, if cold hands were tucked deep into clothes and against bodies they’d only find more cold. But he’d since stopped seeking refuge.

He didn’t even spell his face to be disguised from the Death Eaters.

This world could take him under at any moment. He was just waiting because the impatience had been horrified out of him.

War is hell.

He watched the wind whip at the spires and score the hard stones of the yard. His face was gaunt in multiple ways. His lips blue. His hair trembling in the wind.

He needed to go somewhere to rest. He wouldn’t be able to make it much longer. The Order had fallen. Designated safe places, or people, didn’t exist anymore.

If he had it left, anywhere, in him then he would feel remorse for the people of the world. He had been a part of a force with more chance than any other to defeat Voldemort and they had failed. There was no guardian for the children to come. Nor for the adults. Guilt would be with him if there was enough left of the boat of his soul to hold that guilt in the rough waters. That ship was sinking fast, he could feel it. He hoped at least.

As it was, he had only enough room to breathe air and be aware of the loss that he could still feel. A few people had burrowed so deep in the soul that they lived at the very core and their absence would be noticeable until the last part of him died.

At this point, who knows why he does anything. Regardless, he turned what felt very slowly because his muscles must have begun freezing over, and blinked out of existence.

In Scotland, inside a small, dilapidated and trashed shack he appeared. At the top of the stair well. The wind was quieter here. It wasn’t a safe place. Death Eaters crawled at Hogwarts, just a ways off. But he walked, in that dead man way, up to the door of the only room at the upper level. The door creaked open. The bed was torn in places and stripped long ago of any bedding. The walls claw marked. The window, magically intact. Not much could break that window. Not even wolf paws. If he looked hard, and he didn’t, there were scuff marks on the battered floor boards. Mud and dirt leading in and out of the doorway. It’s a wonder Madam Pomfrey never noticed.

He made it to the bed and laid on it. His body sank like it knew the way to giving no signs of life.

He breathed. His mind was quiet.

He’d lost everyone he’d ever called family. His brothers. His lover. His sister. His godson. His adopted parents. Even his brother from birth, whom he’d so long since lost.

James. Remus. Lilly. Harry. Mr. Potter and Mrs. Potter. Regulus.

Still his mind was quiet for many minutes.

His mind found, of its own accord, a song from the past. He could remember himself hollering the lyrics with James and Remus and Peter, beaming.

His chest compressed with a quiet breath as his throat thought about the words but didn’t quite yet utter them.

He whispered…

_Teo torriatte konomama iko_

_Aisuruhito yo_

_Shizukana yoi ni_

_Hikario tomoshi_

_Itoshiki oshieo idaki_

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr@thisshipsailsitselff


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